


Journey to the Past

by penguinated



Series: BoRhap Boys Fairy Tale AUs [4]
Category: Anastasia (1997), Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally, Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF, Disney - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:08:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26378572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguinated/pseuds/penguinated
Summary: The royal family is overthrown in a violent revolution. However, rumor grows that one daughter survived. Could the last of the line be found? Will a con man and a princess put a twist on what it means to live a fairy tale?
Relationships: Joe Mazzello/Reader
Series: BoRhap Boys Fairy Tale AUs [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1813267
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Prologue

The screams were terrifying. But the silence afterward haunted him forever. 

The family had no idea the resistance knew of their hideaway in Ice Hollow. The frigid, northern tip of the kingdom was not where many would assume the royals had a vacation home. But it was actually reserved for times like this, when their safety was in question. The house there was a secret known only to the royals themselves and those closest to them. But the resistance had that information directly from the source. 

Pasha stood outside the window, the medallion around his neck, glowing green and smoky with excitement. He was so close... _ so close now to my revenge _ , Drago thrummed against Pasha’s chest. Pasha looked down harshly, tucking the medallion under his shirt. They could not risk the family spotting them because Drago was beside himself. 

Inside, Pasha saw the family. Alexandra sat rocking the young boy, Prince Alexei. The four daughters were spread throughout the room. Olga, the eldest, sat close to her mother and was knitting. Tatiana, the next child, was tinkering on the piano. Maria, the third daughter, was doing some embroidery. Anastasia, the youngest daughter, was curled up on the couch by the fire, reading. The King sat beside her, looking into the flames and stroking her hair absentmindedly.

The unrest of the country had aged King Nicholas. Lines across his forehead showed how often it was creased. Gray hair dusted his head and beard, which he smoothed with his free hand. His eyes had a far-off look about them. Little did he know, they would soon be even further off. Staring at nothing. Empty. 

Pasha turned when he heard his comrades walk back over to him. There were ten men, all sent here for the same purpose, with Pasha in command. They regrouped a few yards away from the house so they could report what they saw. 

“The house is unguarded, sir,” said the second in command. “At least it is now.”

He held up a bloody bayonet and snickered. 

“The fools really thought two sentries were enough?”

“Good work,” Pasha praised. “How many servants are present?”

“Just three,” another answered. “Two women and a boy in the kitchen. Should we have taken them out?” 

Pasha shook his head. “No, those people are not our enemies. We’ll enter down in the kitchen, let them run, and then take care of business with the family.”

They nodded. Pasha held each of their gazes a moment, searching for even a hint of hesitation. He found none. Each of them knew their role, and ones who had a specific family member assigned to them knew what to do. It was time to put on their masks and move in. 

Guns raised, they circled around to the servant’s entrance. The door was unlocked and it led right into the kitchen. Pasha led the way, and when the cooks saw him and his men, they gasped, but he held a finger to his lips. A redheaded boy that was maybe ten years old was pushed behind one of the women’s skirts. 

“You have five minutes,” Pasha whispered. “To run. If we find you here later, we will be out of mercy.”

They nodded. Although, Pasha saw a flash of refusal in the boy’s face. Without another word, the woman in front of him took his hand, and they all departed out the door and into the snow, taking only their coats and scarves. Pasha knew they would not dare alert the family. 

The men crept up the stairs. The one behind Pasha stumbled, causing a loud thump. They all came to a halt as Pasha shot him a warning glare. He was certain the family would think nothing of this, but they couldn’t be too careful. If one thing went wrong…

They pressed on. The parlor was just off to the right when you came up the stairs. Pasha and his men slowly approached. The medallion throbbed again. The coming bloodshed pleased the spirit inside it immensely. Drago’s eagerness spread to his host. 

They stopped outside the parlor door. Pasha could hear the fire crackling. The king’s voice could be heard for a moment. Then some footsteps. 

_ Now, Pasha! _ Drago urged. 

Pasha raised his foot and kicked the door in. The family gave a start as the men entered, surrounding them with muzzles trained. Alexandra tried to cover her boy with her body. The older girls dove toward the couch. The king stood in the center of the room, refusing to lower his proud head. 

“Who are you?” he demanded. 

“King Nicholas,” Pasha began. “We are here to answer a warrant.”

The blood drained from Nicholas’s face. 

“We the members of the resistance sentence King Nicholas Lee, and all his house to death,” Pasha continued. “By firing squad.”

“Please,” the king said levelly. “Let my family go, I’ll abdicate, you can take me, just don’t hurt them.” 

“It’s too late for negotiations,” Pasha said. “Now, everyone, on your feet!”

The others shouted at the girls and the wife and son to obey. Trembling, they did. Pasha noticed however, the look of defiance on the youngest daughter’s face. The family was lined up in the center of the room. Alexandra and Olga were weeping. Tatiana and Maria were holding each other’s hands. Alexei leaned against his mother’s leg. The king stood next to Anastasia, the pair of them holding their heads high. 

Pasha stood before Nicholas. Each assigned gunman stood directly in front of their designated family member. The others stood back, rifles aimed at Nicholas. 

“Your Majesty, Drago sends his regards,” Pasha said, and he felt his chest burn with the satisfaction from the medallion. 

And with that, he pulled the trigger. 

However, the king was the only family member to immediately drop to the ground. Pasha looked down the line and saw that chaos had broken out. Anastasia was grappling with the man who was supposed to shoot her. The other girls had seen her resistance and followed suit, though Olga and Tatiana were bleeding from their arms. Maria from her leg. Alexandra was sinking slowly to the floor, clutching her stomach. Alexei lay still beside her. 

The medallion raged along with Pasha. He stepped over and slammed the butt of his rifle into the back of Anastasia’s head. A shot went off from behind him as she went to the ground, and he saw blood begin to pool at her shoulder. The whole room was suddenly a mess of screams and shots. Bayonets and daggers were drawn shortly after, so the gunmen would not shoot their own group. Pasha took Maria by the hair and brought his bayonet right across her throat. The other girls were finally subdued by the others, and lay still on the floor, not even breathing. Alexandra was struggling to draw breath and trying to shrink away from the onslaught. Pasha retrieved his pistol and fired it directly between her eyes. She slumped over, still. 

He rounded on his men. 

“You sloppy idiots!” he barked. “You had one job, and you were nearly stopped by children?!” 

“Sir,” one of the men said, stopping a tirade before it started. “This girl’s still alive.”

He was kneeling beside Anastasia. He rolled her over and she moaned. 

Pasha huffed irritably, marched over, and drove his bayonet into her side. She cried out and then finally, lay still. The last of the Lee family was gone. It was eerily quiet. As if the whole world had stopped breathing. Pasha felt suffocated by the heavy silence. 

“Let’s get out of here,” he spat. “Before you all screw up anything else.”

They all jogged out of the parlor, and then out the front door. Two men grabbed the drums of gasoline that were waiting outside and poured it at the edge of the house. Then Pasha lit a match and dropped it. It ignited the house in flames - the final disposal of evidence. Not that anyone would even know where to look for the royals, but just in case. Then, they all piled into a waiting truck and drove out into the forest. 

None of them noticed the redheaded boy sneaking back to the house, breaking a window, and climbing in. 

Pasha was momentarily consumed with Drago’s thoughts and feelings. It was done. The country was his now. Then, the host felt a bit sick. 

The screams were terrifying. But the silence afterward haunted him forever. 


	2. Chapter 2

That same face swam before you. The kind looking little boy, just a year or two older than you, with soft brown eyes and auburn hair. His face stuck out, but there were glimpses of other things around you. A parade. Dancers. And then chaos. He was always in a crowd. At least until the last hazy memory. The clearest sight of him as you focused on his features instead of the searing pain in your shoulder and abdomen. 

You sat up, pushing the image to the back of your mind. He had to be a dream. You had never been to a ball or a parade, anyway. At least, not as far as you could remember. And you couldn’t remember much before the day you came here, to the orphanage. 

Now that you were an adult, you worked there, but you’d been a resident from the time you were eight or so. Having no memory of who you were before then meant you had no idea when your exact birthday was. A doctor examined you and diagnosed you with amnesia due to a traumatic head injury, and guessed your age based on your development. The women at the orphanage had chosen the day you arrived to be your birthday - not that it meant any celebrations, but so that they had something for the record. 

You tried to remember your past. Especially as a child. You were visited by doctors and specialists, but no one could trigger anything that brought something significant back. All you knew was that you had been wounded, a kind boy brought you to the hospital, and from there you went to the orphanage. You couldn’t even remember what your parents looked like. 

There was only one clue as to who you were that was found among your belongings. A necklace. It was a fine, gold chain, at the end of which was a pendant, with jewels creating the shape of a flower. On the back was an inscription that read “Together in Ramimont.” 

You found out that Ramimont was the capital city of a country to the south. Why you would have family there was beyond you. But someone had given it to you, and whoever that person was must have loved you. Who else would give such a sentimental trinket?

With a sigh, you stretched and got out of bed. You padded over to the chair in the corner of your room and stepped into the dress you wore every day. There was an almost exact copy of it hanging in the wardrobe next to your coat. The choices at the orphanage were limited - so you’d taken whatever fabric you could to make your dresses. Old curtains mostly. And while they weren’t fashionable, they certainly kept you warm. 

Stuffing your feet into your boots, you left your room and headed downstairs. Sophie, the headmistress of the orphanage was waiting for you. Your brow furrowed. That was unusual. 

“Is everything alright, Sophie?” you asked her, coming to a stop. 

She wrung her hands and looked desperately at you. 

“Come with me, Y/N,” she said. “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.”

Heart rate quickening, you followed her into her office on the main floor. Upstairs, you heard the children beginning to rise and dress. You hoped whatever this was wouldn’t hurt them too much. 

Sophie closed the door behind you and gestured to the old dining chair that faced her desk. You took a seat right on the edge. She moved the newspaper out of the way and you caught a glimpse of the headline: RUMORS OF THE PRINCESS… but you couldn’t see the second half. It didn’t concern you anyway. This country had no royalty. Not since the Revolution.

“Y/N, I’m terribly sorry about this, but we’re going to have to let you go,” she said. 

Your stomach dropped. You were...sacked?

“I…” you trailed off, searching for the right words. “What? Did I do something wrong?”

She shook her head. “No, dear. It’s just that the city has cut funds for this place, and now I can only afford to pay myself and George.”

George was in charge of the boys at the orphanage. He answered to Sophie at the end of the day, though. 

You took in a shaky breath. Fear made your blood feel cold as ice. 

“W-what am I going to do?” you wondered. 

It was half to yourself, half to her. This place was the only life you had ever known. 

“I’ve arranged for you to get a job as a street sweeper for one of the hotels nearby,” she said. “I’m afraid they can’t pay you as much as we did, but you’ll have a roof over your head.”

You swallowed even though your mouth felt dry. You barely made enough to live with your current salary. How could you survive on less?

“There is something else you could do,” she said, lowering her voice. 

You scooted closer to hear, eager. “What?”

“Go to Ramimont,” she whispered. 

The government was very strict about travel, so you understood her secretive actions. To discuss leaving could be considered treason, so not even George could overhear. 

“What?” you gasped softly. “You really think I should?”

“It’s up to you,” she replied. “But if you’ve got some money saved, I think it would be the perfect opportunity.”

“But I don’t even know who I’m looking for,” you said. “How can I -”

“Whoever gave you that necklace is probably missing you just as much as you’re longing for them,” she said. “But going is your only chance of finding them.”

You sat back, considering the idea. You had always wanted to go. And you did have a bit of money saved. Only, you had no idea what was required of you. If you had to get some sort of papers, what could you provide? You had no evidence of your identity. 

“I wouldn’t even know where to start,” you said aloud. 

“I don’t really know, either,” Sophie admitted. “But the knowledge is not behind the walls of this building. You’ll have to move on first.”

Tears welled up in your eyes. “I’m going to miss you.”

Her eyes were equally watery. “Oh, dear. I’m going to miss you too.”

You jumped to your feet, crossed around her desk, and hugged her. She sniffled and patted your back. And before you knew it, it was time to pack your bags. 

*******

Joe read over the words again. RUMORS OF THE PRINCESS ANASTASIA ALIVE. Beneath the headline was a photo of the princess - the rest of her family cropped out so it was just her proud face. He could never forget that girl. And the horror he witnessed that day. There was no way she was alive. 

He re-focused and started to read the article. It mentioned that there was a reward offered by the girl’s grandmother, the Dowager Empress Marie Malek Lee. His eyes widened at the number. That much money meant the kind of freedom he had longed for all his life!

The wheels in his head began turning. If anyone had a chance at that money it was him. He had worked in the kitchen, he had met the family. And then there was the music box. He had more proof than any other person could hope to provide. Plus, he had Roman. 

As if summoned by the mere thought of him, Roman came through the door. He shook some snow off his jacket and hung it on the rack. Joe looked up and smiled. 

“Evening,” he said. “How was town?”

“Ugh,” Roman groaned. “Everyone’s all aflutter about this rumor regarding the princess. It’s clearly a distraction!”

Joe raised an eyebrow. “A distraction? From what?”

“They closed another border today,” Roman said gravely. “They’re shutting us in, Joe. We need to get out if we’re going to do it.”

Joe paused. Another border closure was definitely concerning. And it meant difficulty in their plan. But Joe’s new plan meant getting out with the addition of money. He would have no qualms splitting any earnings with Roman, who had become his closest friend. 

Roman was only about ten years old than Joe, but with a whole different experience. Being the scandalous love child of an earl, most would have thought his life difficult. It was in some respects, but astonishingly, Roman’s father welcomed his son with open arms, and tried to make him part of society. The mother being a prostitute made some members of the nobility scoff, but when King Nicholas himself accepted Roman, the rest of that class had to suck it up. 

That is, until the Revolution came. The earl packed up his family, and had to pay for each of their exit visas. In their rush, Roman was left behind. He was the forgotten son, after all. 

Roman got his revenge. He went to his father’s mansion and completely ransacked it. He took all the valuables left behind - jewels, furs, antiques, etc. - and sold them. He kept one thing, a diamond ring that belonged to his father’s wife, and he gave it to his mother. She didn’t live much longer, but Roman still had it. 

“I was thinking about this whole Princess Anastasia thing,” Joe said. 

Roman rolled his eyes. “Not you too! I thought you had some sense!”

“Hear me out,” Joe insisted. “Between the two of us, we could train any girl to be that princess. We just gotta find someone who looks enough like her.”

“Are you serious?” Roman returned. “You want to con the Dowager Empress?”

“What’s she ever done for either of us?” Joe pointed out. “Why shouldn’t we get something out of our knowledge?”

Roman paused, mulling it over. 

“What woman would agree to this?” he said. “We’d have to split the reward money three ways.”

“Believe me, the amount is more than enough to split three ways,” Joe said. 

He tossed the paper to Roman, who began reading it over. Concern crossed his handsome, angular features as he read. 

“Let’s say we do this,” he said. “How will we find the girl? We can’t exactly put out an ad for people to audition. We’d be shot where we stand.”

“I know some people, I’ll get the word out,” Joe insisted. “Come on, Ro, this is our chance.”

“I think we should just consider ourselves lucky to be able to get out of the country,” Roman replied warily. “Is money really worth all this risk?”

“Money is the most important thing in the world, Roman,” Joe said seriously. “And I don’t intend on being without it anymore.”

“Money has never been the most important thing in the world,” Roman said. “The Lee family had more money they knew what to do with, and they still ended up dead.”

Joe didn’t answer that. He was all too familiar with that story, though he’d never shared it with his friend. 

“Ro, I’m doing this,” he said. “Whether you’re with me or not.”

A beat passed as Roman eyed him, a bit worried. Then he smirked. “You couldn’t pull it off without me anyway.”

Joe beamed. “So you’re in?”

“I’m in,” Roman said. 

They shook on it. 

“Who knows? Maybe we will find her,” he continued. “If the Dowager is offering a reward, there must be some substance to the rumor.”

A fleeting image passed in the front of Joe’s mind. Bloody snow, a weak girl in his arms, her eyes falling shut as he called to her. He shook his head to clear it away.

“I doubt it,” he said. 

With that, he took to the streets, telling his most trusted contacts that he was looking for the lost princess. 

*******

The snow crunched under your boots as you trudged up to the hotel. You didn’t imagine there were many tourists in the country. What was there to see? The capital was only government workers and poor people. There was the old palace, but it was boarded up. As far as anything else, you had no idea what might draw people here. You noticed that most of the people coming to the hotel were in uniforms of some sort. They must be visitors from around the country. Or even other countries. 

You set your bag down and stood across the street from the hotel that was to be your new home. If you took the job. There was also Sophie’s suggestion to consider. The latter was definitely the more frightening option, but if the reward was finding your true family, then it should be worth it...right? 

You glanced down at the necklace, thinking it over some more. If you went into that hotel now, you may never get another opportunity to leave. You picked up your bag, determined, and walked away toward the train station. You had to take your chance. 

The train station was toward the edge of the city, near the old palace. You could see the towers looming over the land around it. The area was rather deserted, which you found surprising. As you looked at the abandoned fortress, you felt a sort of pull from it. Like you had been there before. 

You ignored this feeling and pressed on to the station. You couldn’t be worried about some crumbling castle. You had to get out as soon as possible. 

The line for tickets was excruciatingly long. You waited for nearly two hours before you were face to face with the attendant at the booth. He looked impatiently at you. 

“Where to?” he asked gruffly. 

“One ticket to Ramimont, please,” you said. 

“Exit visa and passport?”

“I - uh - well -” you stammered. “I have some money.”

“You can’t purchase a ticket without an exit visa and a passport,” he explained, rolling his eyes. “You may get those documents at the parliament building downtown.”

“How long does that take?” you asked. 

“Depends on how much money you have,” he said. “And who you know. But until you have those, get out of my line.”

You started at the harshness of his address, but did as you were told. You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned to face it. It was a woman. She was not really dressed for the cold weather, with her chest that exposed and skirt just under her knee. She also had a heavy rogue on her cheeks. 

“If you’re looking to go to Ramimont, you should see Joe Mazzello,” she said quietly.

You stepped closer to her. “Who?”

“Joe Mazzello,” she repeated. “He’s at the old palace. I hear he’s got a ticket, but there is a catch.”

“What’s the catch?” you wondered. 

She shrugged. “Dunno. Heard it from a friend. But you might have a better shot with him than with the government.”

“I see,” you said. “Thank you, Miss…”

“You don’t need to know my name,” she said. “You didn’t hear this from me.”

You nodded. After thanking her again, you left the train station. This time, heading for the one place you were avoiding earlier. Perhaps it was fate calling you in. Hopefully, you were meant to meet this Joe person and he would deliver you to your family. 

You stopped yourself. You didn’t want to get carried away in a hope. 

The castle was a sorry sight. With wooden planks in the windows where glass used to be, dustings of snow being blown in by the wind, and a fully collapsed tower, it looked a bit haunted. And of course, the lack of people added to the eerie feeling. You peered in between the boards and into the darkness. You couldn’t see anything, really. 

You picked this window because it was far enough away from the main entrance that you might be able to sneak in without startling anyone. You tested the plank in front of your chest. It was fairly loose - whoever had done this did it quickly and carelessly. You supposed the New Order didn’t want anyone to see the symbol of the old ways as up for grabs. 

You tugged on the board. It groaned beneath the force until finally you pried it enough and it came clean off. You stumbled back as the pressure released, but collected yourself and tossed it away. There was enough room for you to get in. You stepped through first and then reached back for your bags. You set them down against the wall, and then looked up and gaped at the high, grand ceilings and plush carpet. Everything was so...regal. And even stranger, it felt familiar to you. 

Across the corridor from the window, you saw a dusty, faded painting. It was enormous, and a portrait of a man and his family. He was tall, with soft brown hair and bright blue eyes. Unlike the portraits of men before him, he was smiling. The lady beside him looked equally happy with a wide grin. A silly detail you noticed on her was that the artist had depicted her shoes to be made of glass. 

She had a baby on her lap, and three other children surrounded their feet. A gold plate on the frame appeared to have some information etched into it, so you stepped closer to read it. It said, “King Gwilym, his wife, and children.” 

You were struck with a pang of sadness. You looked up at King Gwilym’s smiling face and felt such pity that his line was ended. That his descendants had met a tragic end and his legacy was disappearing into time. You had no idea why it broke your heart like this. You didn’t know the man or his relations, and yet, you felt this hurt for him. The only comfort was that wherever they were, they were all together now. 

To the left, were more paintings. You guessed, more generations of royals. You walked on and observed them, heartstrings still pulling at their fate. Three paintings over from Gwilym was the final royal family. King Nicholas greatly resembled his great-grandfather Gwilym. He had a wider face, and a thick beard which added to it, but the eyes were exactly the same. Round, blue, and kind.

His wife, Alexandra, was stunning. She wasn’t as warm as her husband, but she had the grace and elegance of a queen, for sure. Similar to King Gwilym’s queen, she had the youngest child in her lap for the portrait. The only boy. On the floor, four girls sat together, holding hands and smiling. 

You blinked and a tear slid down your cheek. Hastily, you wiped it away. Why on Earth were you crying? Sure, you knew the royal family’s story was unfortunate, but why was this feeling so personal?

You shook your head and continued on, re-focusing. You needed to find this Joe person, and quickly. This place was overwhelming. 

Every part of the palace felt like something you had dreamed and were trying to recall after waking up. It felt fuzzy, but certain things were coming through with perfect clarity. Then you came upon a ballroom. 

For a fleeting moment, it was dazzling with light and glittering jewels. Important people waltzed around it, and you spotted King Nicholas amongst the crowd. He spun his daughter around, lifting her high in the air, and you giggled along with her. 

As quickly as the vision came, it went. Once again, the room was dull, faded, covered in cobwebs and other debris. You stepped and a plume of dust formed around your boot. You scanned the ballroom and spotted a long table against the wall with serving platters and the like spread out. The silver was tarnished and pieces were missing. Even so, you picked up a tray. You examined it, and wiped the dust away. When it was clear, you looked at your reflection. What you saw startled you.

It was you, but as a little girl, looking remarkably like the youngest of the four in the painting, in a pink silk gown and a tiara sparkling on the crown of your head. You gasped at the sight and dropped the platter. It clanged to the floor and you winced. 

“Hey!” cried a voice from the other side of the ballroom. 

You whirled around to face him. It was a young man, probably about your age, with auburn hair. His face was familiar to you the same way this palace was, and it frightened you. 

“Who are you?” he demanded. “What are you doing here?”

“What’s going on?” another man questioned as he jogged to join the first. You felt as if you’d met him before too. 

You didn’t answer either of them. Instead, you took off running back the way you came. 

“Hey, wait!” the redhead called, and he pursued you. 


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey, stop!” he called after you. 

You barely heard him as you hurtled up the stairs and around the corner. You could feel them catching up to you. You were forced to slow when you tried to snatch your bags up, but missed. 

A hand took hold of your arm and whipped you around. Finally, you met the gaze of the redhead man and you saw his hostile expression soften into something like awe. Your chest heaved as you looked at him questioningly. 

Joe felt like he’d been slapped. He wanted to find Anastasia and it appeared that here she stood. You had all the right features, and the comparison was easy with the portrait right behind you. His jaw slackened and fell open. He blinked several times. Just to be certain he wasn’t dreaming. 

“Who are you, miss?” Roman asked. 

He noticed Joe’s stunned expression before making the connection between you and the painting as well. But he was more focused. 

Finally, you tore your gaze away from the redhead and looked at his companion. 

“My name is Y/N,” you said. “I’m sorry I disturbed you, I should go.”

You started to collect your things again and made for the window you’d come through, but Joe’s hand on you stopped you. He appeared to have finally come out of the trance of shock.

“Hold on,” he said. “Y/N, was it?”

You nodded. 

“Something brought you here,” he said. “What?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Before I answer any questions, why don’t you tell me who you are?”

Growing up in the orphanage, you’d learned to stand up for yourself. At times, Sophie had described you as demanding or bossy. The other children sometimes thought you were a snob, and the boys called you even worse names, but you never let it get to you. You had some sense of what you deserved. Respect was all.

“My name is Joe Mazzello and this is my friend, Roman Nagibin,” Joe said. “Now, what are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you, actually,” you admitted. “But now that I’m here, it just feels stupid.”

That was true. Every second that passed made this whole idea feel more and more ridiculous. This man was a stranger! Why in the world would he help you?

“You’re in luck, stupid is Joe’s first language,” Roman remarked. 

The corners of your mouth twitched up as Joe shot his friend a dirty look. 

“Why don’t you tell us what you needed him for?” Roman asked gently. 

You swallowed. “Well, I’m trying to get to Ramimont.”

Joe and Roman exchanged a meaningful glance, which confused you.

“Was I wrong?” you asked. “You’re going somewhere else?”

“You heard correctly, we are going there,” Joe confirmed. “What reason do you have?”

“What’s  _ your _ reason?” you retorted. 

Joe frowned. “I asked you first.”

“I asked you second!” you shot back. 

“Children!” Roman interrupted before Joe could reply. You both looked at him. “If we could all be civil here, please. Now, Y/N, to be transparent, we are going to Ramimont to reunite the lost princess with her family.”

“The lost...what?” you questioned. 

“You haven’t heard?” Joe asked, mocking. “The youngest daughter of King Nicholas is supposedly alive. We’ve got a ticket to Ramimont just for her.”

“And how exactly are you planning to locate her?” you wondered. “I mean, she’s not going to just wander in here and tell you.”

“Of course not, but Roman and I have knowledge enough between the two of us to know her when we see her,” he said. 

“If I’m being honest, we may have already found her,” Roman added, looking between you and the portrait. 

You looked at it again as well, and then your jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

“Hold on, tell us what your interest is in Ramimont,” Joe said. “That’ll help us.”

You bit your lip, hesitating. Your story sounded so crazy, so far fetched and impossible. Would they even believe you?

“I’m an orphan,” you blurted out. “I have no memory of my life before I was eight years old, and the only clue I have about my family is Ramimont.” 

“That’s where her only family is,” Roman said. “Well, her closest family. There are distant cousins in Montford, but -”

“We don’t need to get into all that,” Joe said. “The family that’s  _ looking _ for the princess - that is, her grandmother Empress Marie - is in Ramimont.”

The idea was so preposterous to you that you snorted. “You don’t really think I could be a princess, do you?”

“I know this,” Joe said. “I’ve seen dozens of women all over the country and none of them resemble Anastasia the way you do.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s ridiculous. It’s just a rumor.”

“A rumor that the Dowager Empress herself has stated she believes?” he challenged. “There’s gotta be something more to it.”

“Well, why are you two so interested?” you wondered. “What’s in it for you?”

“I used to work in the palace and Roman has noble blood,” Joe said. “We’ve got some loyalty to the family.”

You raised a skeptical eyebrow. Looking between them, you tried to discern any ill intentions. Roman seemed honorable enough, but Joe had something up his sleeve, you were sure of it. 

“Let’s say that’s true -” you began, but Joe cut you off.

“It is,” he said. 

“If it is -”

“It definitely is.”

You glowered at him. “Supposing your intentions are -”

“They’re entirely altruistic,” he interrupted again. 

“Let me talk!” you demanded, resisting the urge to stamp your foot. 

He gestured with his hand for you to proceed. 

“Even so, there’s no way I’m the princess,” you said. 

“The resemblance is uncanny,” Roman argued. “True, years have passed, but if anyone had to guess what Anastasia might look like as a grown woman, they would certainly picture your face.”

“He’s right,” Joe added. “And you’re looking for your family in Ramimont. Her only family is there.”

“You don’t know what happened to you,” Roman said. “And no one really knows what happened to her.”

“Only way to find out is to come with us,” Joe finished. “But if you’re certain you’re not her, you’re welcome to try some other way to get there.”

He threw his arm over Roman’s shoulders and led him out of the corridor and back toward the ballroom. You heard them whispering as their steps faded away. However, you lingered at the portrait, staring in Nicholas’s face and trying to recall it. 

Nothing.

“Joe, you’re making a mistake,” Roman hissed under his breath as they went down the stairs. “We’ll never find a girl who looks as much like -”

“Relax, I know what I’m doing,” Joe assured him. “Slow down, though.”

They reduced their pace, and Roman shot his companion an impatient look. Joe only smirked. 

“Joe!” you called, dashing around the corner and following them. 

Roman rolled his eyes as Joe pumped his fist subtly. They heard you come into the ballroom but didn’t stop. 

“Joe, hold on!” you cried. 

“I’m sorry, did you call?” he asked, stopping at last to face you. 

You ignored his obvious jab. 

“What I’m gathering from all we’ve discussed is that the only person who could really say whether or not I am the lost princess is her grandmother, right?” you asked. 

“That would be correct,” he replied. 

“Because there’s no one who can definitively say that I’m not, yes?”

Joe hesitated. Himself, and eleven other men could actually confirm it, but there was no way he was admitting this to anyone. He swallowed. 

“Right,” he said. 

“And if I’m not the princess, the Empress will know, and it’ll just be an honest mistake,” you concluded, sounding more confident than you felt. 

“Sure,” he said. “You’ve got nothing to lose by coming with us.”

“And everything to win,” Roman added. 

You faltered on the last step toward them. Roman’s words had ignited something within you that you had been resisting for years - a flicker of hope. The family you’d always longed for might truly be waiting. 

“That’s right,” you said wistfully. 

“Then we have a deal?” Joe asked. “You’ll go as our princess?”

“I will,” you answered. “Are you sure there’s nothing you want from me in exchange? This kind of favor is…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Joe said. “Like I told you, Roman and I sympathize with the royal cause. If we didn’t, we wouldn’t take this kind of risk.”

“I suppose that’s true,” you said. 

Roman raised an eyebrow. He would not betray Joe to anyone, but he didn’t like seeing him swindle you out of your fair share of the reward money. It felt like taking advantage of a person who he considered very genuine and honest. 

“We’ll need to teach you a few things,” Joe said. “So you’ll make a good impression.”

“What exactly do I need to know?” you wondered.

“You’ll need to know how to properly greet the Dowager and other such etiquette,” Roman explained. “Don’t worry, I can help you there.”

“When can we start?” you asked, a determined gleam in your eye.

The men looked at each other and grinned.

The next few days were spent on your education. Roman was especially helpful, having spent so much time amongst nobility - and even the royals - himself. Joe was generally less refined in every aspect. Actually, you knew very little about where Joe came from and what his goals were. Roman was clear in that he wanted to be among society again, even if it meant facing his father. He freely shared his story. Joe was more discreet. He avoided any conversation that steered toward himself. 

On the last day before your departure, you learned something new. 

“Okay, Y/N, it’s time for a history lesson,” Roman said. “If you’re going to impress the dowager, you’ll need to know some basics.”

“I know history pretty well,” you insisted. “At least, since the Revolution.”

“You’ll need to know much earlier than that,” he replied. “We’re going back to King Gwilym’s time.”

Your jaw dropped. “I need to know that much?!”

He shrugged. “It’s nothing really in the grand scheme of things. Now, sit down, it’s time to learn.”

Stifling a groan, you took a seat at the table. Roman opened up an atlas, which showed the continent you were on. There were three kingdoms there - Adura, Leto, and Eboron. Roman pointed first to Adura. 

“Of course, you know of Adura,” he said. “Where we are. But generations ago was the Golden Age of this continent. King Gwilym ruled Adura, King Benjamin ruled Eboron, and King Rami ruled Leto. These three kings were boyhood friends, and remained close to their subjects as well as each other, so the people were thriving.”

You nodded. “Okay. But what does that have to do with me?”

“You’ll see,” he continued. “There were marriages between the families, so you have relations to all of them, but of course, your most direct ancestor is King Gwilym.”

“Maybe,” you corrected him. “We don’t know for sure if I’m actually a descendant.”

“Let’s assume for our purposes that you are,” he said. “Your grandmother, Empress Marie is a descendant of King Rami - hence she fled to her home in Ramimont when things took a turn here.”

“Took a turn?” you questioned.

“Your father, King Nicholas, dealt with a tumultuous time. A famine took over the land, and a resistance group rose up, and of course, carried out a coup with the help of the military.”

“Who organized the coup?” you wondered.

“A man who was once close to the royal family, and who claimed to be a sorcerer,” Roman said. “His name was Drago. But King Nicholas had Drago executed a year before the coup took place.”

“And it still happened?” you questioned. 

“How it happened is a mystery,” Roman explained. “The only person alive who could tell us what exactly went down that day would be...well, you.”

A chill went down your spine. Along with a surge of guilt. You cursed your brain for losing its access to those parts of your memory. Maybe it could bring some kind of justice. Of course, that all hinged on whether or not you were actually the princess. She could very well be lost to time along with the rest of the family. 

Joe shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had never disclosed to anyone - not even Roman - that he was present when the royal family was executed. He didn’t really think it mattered. He had no idea who the men in masks were and he was certain that Anastasia was dead. He did his best and brought her to the hospital, but her injuries were severe. When he was dismissed by the medical staff, he took it to mean that there was no longer a reason to stay. 

You sighed. 

“Why did the king execute Drago if they were friends?” you asked. “Did he suspect the coup was coming?”

“Actually, no,” he told you. “The prince, Alexei, had a terrible illness, which wasn’t public knowledge until just before the royals died. Drago claimed he could cure the boy. The queen said Drago used her son’s illness as an excuse to get her alone, and then he revealed his true intentions. He wanted to seduce her.”

You shuddered. 

“Of course, Alexandra took offense and told her husband that Drago was wicked,” Roman went on. “That he had betrayed them. Nicholas couldn’t stand for it and he knew there was dissension, so he had Drago executed to make an example of him.”

“What happened then?” you asked. 

“Drago’s office within the palace was searched and the king found records of all Drago’s plans,” Roman said. “He originally only wanted to get rid of Nicholas and marry either Alexandra or Olga, so his claim would be legitimate. He clearly did not expect Alexandra to turn him down, as they had become friends while he treated Alexei.

“Now, even though Drago was dead, he still had loyal followers,” he continued. “A small group who claimed to know and use the same sort of ‘magic’ Drago did. They organized country wide uprisings, so every noble lord and lady fled. They infiltrated the king’s army, and left the family with no protection. So the royal family also fled, to a private mansion in the north, which no one was supposed to know about. But someone betrayed them to Drago’s followers, and it was there they were executed.” 

Joe observed your face the whole time Roman spoke. Your mouth twisted into a sour expression as your brows came together over your eyes. You lost a bit of color as well when he reached the end of the story. He started to continue, but Joe held up a hand to stop him.

“Hold on, Ro, I think she’s gonna be sick,” he said. 

You weren’t very fond of Joe. He had proven himself to be combative, annoying, and childish, but you were grateful to him in this moment. Just hearing about the execution made your stomach churn. 

“Y/N, are you alright?” Roman asked, kneeling in front of you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it would affect you like this.”

“I’m okay,” you lied, choking on your words. “I just...could I get some water?”

“On it,” Joe said, and went to fetch it. 

“What’s happening?” Roman pressed, taking your hand. 

“My head feels like it’s spinning,” you told him. 

It was true. The room around you seemed wobbly. Like at any moment it might vanish and you would be in that mansion. 

“I just can’t believe how horrible that is,” you said. “How scared they must have been. How painful their last moments…” you trailed off, swallowing the lump in your throat. 

Joe returned and offered you some water in a tin coffee mug. You accepted it with shaking hands. You took a sip and let it cool down your rapidly heating body. Roman gestured for Joe to join him and they turned their backs to you, murmuring so you wouldn’t hear. 

“This is strange, Joe,” Roman said. “She’s having all the physical signs of a flashback, but without the actual memory.”

Joe guessed where Roman was going with this. He rolled his eyes. 

“She’s just anxious,” he said. “Let her calm down and get back to the lesson.”

Roman looked skeptical. “I’m telling you, she might be -”

“No way,” Joe cut him off. “Let’s continue.”

He didn’t let Roman protest again. When you were calm, Roman went on to tell you the members of the family you might need to know. Your nerves made your stomach turn. How could you learn a whole lineage in just a few days?

Joe watched you study the family tree. Everything about you screamed at him that you were a Lee family member - the color of your eyes, the shape of your nose, the set of your jaw - all features that most of the siblings had. Your eyes especially disturbed him. Each time he looked at them, he remembered the princess dying in the snow. And it frightened him. 

The next day was the big travel day. Roman and Joe helped you with your things, and you found yourself a bit sad to be leaving the palace. It felt like a sort of home to you. A small part of you hoped to return someday. The wind picked up as you walked toward the train station. You shuddered and turned your collar up against it. You took one last look at the castle, saying a silent goodbye. 

A thick crowd occupied the train station. Joe had a tight grip on your arm as he jostled through, yanking you around the surrounding people. You tugged against him, forcing him to stop.

“What?” he demanded. 

“That hurts!” you snapped. 

“Well, hurry up then!” he returned.

You scowled at him, wishing looks could kill. Thankfully, Roman intervened. 

“Joe,” he said gently. “Remember who it is you’re handling.”

Joe rolled his eyes. “We gotta keep moving.”

“What’s the hurry?” you wondered. 

He didn’t answer. 

Your platform was less congested than the area to get tickets, which you were grateful for since Joe finally let go of you. You waited in line to board behind him, Roman behind you. You looked around and suddenly spotted a familiar face. The girl who had told you to go to Joe in the first place. There was an odd gleam in her eye today. It struck you as rather devious. 

You opened your mouth to ask Joe if he knew her, but couldn’t get the words out. Before you could speak, five policemen appeared behind the woman. She pointed directly at Joe. 

“There they are, officers,” she said. “That’s Joe Mazzello and the girl he’s trying to pass off as Princess Anastasia!”


	4. Chapter 4

“Run!” Joe hissed, and began to take off. You grabbed his coat and yanked him back.

“If you run, you look guilty,” you said under your breath. “Just relax. They don’t have any real proof.”

The officers approached slowly, but on edge. They were ready if you did decide to take flight. You kept your face level and watched them with a mildly curious expression. 

“Is there a problem officers?” you asked politely. 

The lead one smiled at you. It wasn’t a warm, friendly smile. It felt more like a threat. 

“Young lady, my name is Pasha, and I am head of the police force of the New Order,” he said. “That woman identified you and the man you’re with as culprits in an act of treason.”

Pasha’s eyes unnerved you. They were...lifeless in a sense. There wasn’t hatred or malice, but there wasn’t love or kindness either. It was like looking at a machine. And his focus on you was beginning to feel violating. He had missile lock on your face. Then, he winced and put his hand over the center of his chest. 

“What act of treason?” you asked. 

He cleared his throat. “According to her, he was looking for the lost princess. It is only a rumor, but any citizens proving themselves to be -”

He stopped abruptly. He had spotted Roman. Something like clarity came over him. 

“Ah, I see,” he said. “Roman Nagibin wants to bring back the princess to get his place in society again.”

You saw some color drain from Roman’s face.

“You’re mistaken,” he said. “No one here believes this silly rumor. I am only trying to return to my family, and these are my companions.” 

“A likely story,” Pasha replied. “Travel papers?”

He held out his hand. Roman slowly reached into the breast pocket of his coat, retrieved the papers, and held them out to Pasha. The officers behind their leader had put their hands on their side arms. You swallowed and felt a bead of sweat run down your back, despite the chill in the air. 

Pasha examined the papers, squinting at them suspiciously. You felt your stomach turn. What if they weren’t legitimate? You didn’t really know Joe and Roman that well, and if they were somehow trying to pull one over on the government of the New Order, you were about to go down with them. You glanced at Joe for some kind of reassurance, but he was fixed on Roman, concern etched into his face with a frown.

“Well, these do seem to be in order,” Pasha said, returning the papers. “Tell me, why did this woman tell me you and Joe over here were looking for the princess?”

“You know her kind,” Roman said. “She probably hoped to win your favor, so you would not arrest her the next time she was found selling herself on the street.”

“Lies!” the woman almost shrieked. “I know they were looking for Anastasia, they asked me if I knew anyone who might pass for her, I sent that girl to them!”

Pasha rounded on her as she clapped a hand over her mouth. 

“I see,” he said dangerously. “Tell me, did you really think you could contrive this whole thing and then avoid punishment when it came out that you wasted the valuable time of our officers?”

“I didn’t - wait - I -” she continued stammering as Pasha came bearing down on her. 

You knew exactly where this was headed. You darted away from Joe, toward the woman, ignoring his questioning cry and the confused look Roman shot you. You cast yourself between Pasha and the woman, opening your arms in front of her. 

“Sir, I think this is all a big misunderstanding,” you said. 

“This no longer concerns you, girl,” he spat.

You looked defiantly up at him. “I cannot allow you to harm her.”

“You do not give commands here,” he returned. “Stand down.”

“No,” you said firmly. 

Suddenly, he clutched at his chest again, but you couldn’t make yourself worry about that. He took a deep breath and glowered at you.

“What is your name, girl?” he demanded.

“Y/N,” you answered. “I may be only an orphan to you, but -”

“Y/N,” Joe interrupted. “Enough. We’re going to miss our train.”

You ignored him and continued to glare at Pasha. 

“You should listen to your friend,” he sneered. “Get on your train, it could be your last chance.”

“Sir,” interrupted one of Pasha’s comrades. “Our next target has arrived.”

“Keep your voice down!” Pasha snapped. He frowned at you and then at the woman behind you. “You’re lucky. Today, we have something more important to take care of. But make no mistake, any more mischief, and there will be consequences.”

He turned on his heel and walked away. You allowed yourself to relax as you faced the woman again. She wouldn’t meet your gaze. 

“You didn’t have to -”

“Yes, I did,” you said. 

She paused a moment. “Thank you,” she said shortly, and then she too was walking away. 

“We’ve got to go now,” Roman interjected. “Pasha and the rest are in a mood today.”

You looked at him and then followed his gaze a ways down the platform. There was a man - clearly rich by his clothing - who was walking briskly toward the train. Pasha was catching up though. The man who was the target suddenly caught your eye, and for a fleeting moment, you were certain you recognized him. His eyes went wide before returning to solemnity and he offered you a light bow of his head. 

“Duke Mason…” you breathed.

“How did you know that?” Roman wondered, shocked. 

“I dunno,” you replied. “I just...did.” 

“We gotta get out of here,” Joe said. “Duke Mason isn’t going to make it out of this train station and we don’t want to be here when that happens.”

“What?” you gasped. 

“Oh, no,” he returned. “You aren’t playing hero again. Get. On. The. Train.”

“But -”

“LONG LIVE THE LEE FAMILY!” Duke Mason bellowed over the sounds of the station.

A gunshot rang out. Chaos erupted across the platform.

“Now, Y/N!” Joe cried. 

He and Roman put their arms around you and began to usher you away. Your heart was racing and you had tears in your eyes. You were grateful for Roman and Joe because without them, you would have collapsed and probably gotten trampled. They shoved you into the first car of the train and forced you to jog toward where your compartment was. The whistle screamed over the din as the train lurched forward. You stumbled. You really had almost missed it. Suddenly, you were inside a compartment with just Joe and Roman, who shut the door. 

“What…” you trailed off in disbelief. 

“Get a hold of yourself,” Joe warned. “If they think you sympathize with the duke, they’ll take you too. Especially after your little performance earlier.”

“How can you be so mean?” you argued. “It’s injustice, you can’t just sit by and -”

“Yes you can!” he shouted. “And that’s what you do because that’s how the world is! You can either get out or live with it!”

The sounds of the drain station died down as the train pulled out onto the open track. You crossed your arms over your chest and glowered out the window, fuming. 

“It’s terrible that you feel like those are your only choices,” you said. “What ever happened to doing the right thing?”

“Integrity and decency died with the royal family,” Joe replied. “The New Order is the way it is now, and we have to survive. That’s all.”

“Well, that’s just sad,” you said. 

“It’s the truth, sad or not,” he said. “And your stupid, schoolgirl ideas aren’t going to change that.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but Roman interrupted. 

“Enough, you two,” he said. “Arguing won’t help us. Besides, we should take a moment. Look at the land. It’s the last time any of us will ever see it.”

His words silenced you. You looked out at the snowy plains and felt heavy. You were leaving everything you had ever known and going somewhere entirely new, never to return. You suddenly felt more homeless than ever before. 

Joe’s melancholy expression told you he was feeling similar. 

Roman took out a flask and held it up as he unscrewed the top. 

“To the homeland,” he said, and took a swig.

He passed it to you next, and you followed suit, as did Joe. Then, the three of you fell into silence. 

*******

After the execution of Duke Mason, Pasha returned to headquarters. He went to his private bathroom to wash his hands and face. The cold water awakened his skin. But it could not make him forget your face. It was so eerily familiar to the Lee family’s youngest daughter. That proud defiance he hadn’t seen since that night in Ice Hollow. Then, the medallion had flared up again. 

He felt it hot against his chest now. Drago was awakening. 

_ It’s her _ ...he seethed. 

“It’s not possible,” Pasha protested. “We killed them all.”

_ It’s the girl, Pasha! I know one of those despicable royals when I see them! _

Pasha sighed. Irritably, he went to the safe in the back of his office. In it, he kept all the proof he needed. He turned the knob and heard the lock click. The old door squeaked lightly as it swung open. The skulls peered back out at him like an audience. 

The skulls of the royal family were kept as proof for anyone who might claim similar rumors to the one that prevailed now. 

“Look,” Pasha said. “All seven.”

_ There’s only six _ , Drago said.  _ Count them _ .

Pasha obeyed, counting out loud. 

“One, two, three, four, five….” he trailed off. “Six.” 

That was it.

_ I knew it _ , Drago hissed.  _ That girl is the princess. Go after them and take care of it once and for all. _

“I should tell the Commander,” Pasha said, struggling to overcome his own disbelief. How had they missed this?

The Commander served as the leader of the country, like a king, but he was subject to those around him and the police.

_ No! _ Drago snapped.  _ No one can know of this error. You and I will take care of it. Quietly. _

“As you say, Master,” Pasha agreed. 

He put his coat on to return to the train station. 

*******

A few hours into your train ride, the compartment was still silent. You were reading a book Roman loaned you to continue your training. This one was about Prince Benjamin, who ruled during the time of your great-great-grandfather Gwilym. You had just reached the part where Prince Ben left his duties and traveled with pirates. 

“Roman,” you said, setting the book down in your lap. “Did all this magic and stuff really happen?” 

“Certainly,” he answered. “Magic used to be fairly widespread, and it likely still is in Letos and Eberon. In Adura, under the New Order, magic was forbidden, and it’s believed it was lost.”

“But doesn’t the New Order use magic?” you wondered. “I mean, Drago was a sorcerer, right?”

“Supposedly,” he said. “But what the New Order accepts among its citizens is different from what is acceptable among those ruling.” 

“It doesn’t sound like the New Order is what the people really wanted,” you said. 

“It isn’t,” Joe said suddenly. “It never was. Drago’s curse upon the royal family went into the hearts of the citizens. Even when he died, the damage was done.”

“So the people were actually happy under the royal rule?” you asked. 

He nodded. “Mostly, yeah. King Nicholas was a good king, and he had a well-designed council to represent all the different parts of the kingdom. Necessities were readily available for all people - healthcare, housing, food. All of it was plentiful until Drago interfered.”

You sank into your seat, deflated. Once again, you were struck by the unfairness of it all. 

“Speaking of the New Order,” Roman said. “I think we should switch trains in Eboron. I’ve got a feeling that Pasha isn’t done with us.”

“It’s gonna be a pain, but I agree,” Joe said. 

Slightly ashamed, you looked down at your hands. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I’ve made things more difficult, haven’t I?”

“Don't feel too bad,” Joe said. “There was no way this trip was gonna be easy.”

You looked up at him and chuckled. 

At the first stop in Eboron, Roman arranged for new tickets. To throw Pasha and the New Order off the trail, you were going to head for the coast and then take a ship to Letos before heading back inland to Ramimont. It was the most roundabout way to go, but it would also be the least expected. 

You were asleep, slumped against the window of the train as you barrelled toward the coastal town of Dram. Joe watched you. Roman was taking a walk to stretch his legs, but they agreed that you shouldn’t be left alone. 

Joe hated to admit it, but each time he stared at you, he found you more and more attractive. Despite how annoyingly hopeful you were. He huffed and looked away from your face. It was always a harsh reminder of that day in Ice Hollow, and that was a time he was still struggling to forget. 

Suddenly, you let out a weak moan. He turned toward you again and saw you twitch in your sleep. Then, you gasped and shuddered. 

“No,” you murmured. “Please...Papa…stay...”

Joe raised an eyebrow. He was certain he remembered you saying you had no memory of any parents in your life. Now, you were calling out to your father. 

“Y/N,” he grunted, nudging you with his foot. 

Your face scrunched and you shrunk away. Joe shrugged and gave up. Then, you called out again, this time for a name that made him stiffen. 

“Alexei,” you giggled. “Stop that.”

He felt the blood drain from his face. You were dreaming about the young prince? He began to doubt suddenly his resolution that you couldn’t be her...Anastasia...the princess he’d held in his arms and dragged through the snow to the nearest hospital. 

An idea came to him. Anastasia would have a scar on her shoulder from the bullet that struck her. You hat on a top with a boat neckline, and he would only have to move it a little bit to see if such a scar existed on your body. He took his feet off your seat and placed them on the floor. He stood on slightly shaking legs as he approached you. 

“Y/N,” he whispered, just to be sure you were really out.

You didn’t respond. So, he reached toward your top. 

Your eyes fluttered open to a dark form hovering over you. Instincts kicked in and you screamed as your right hand shot out and struck the figure in the face. He cried out and stumbled back and you quickly realized it was Joe. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” you demanded. “Watching me sleep like some kind of psycho?!”

Joe held his nose, which was throbbing. 

“What’s wrong with  _ me _ ?!” he challenged. “You’re the one calling for people in your sleep! I was trying to wake you up, it seemed like you were having a nightmare!”

He groaned and flopped back into his seat, clutching his nose. 

“I think you broke my nose,” he complained. 

He held out his hands and checked them for blood. 

“You’re not bleeding,” you returned, rolling your eyes. “Jeez, men are such babies.”

“Oh, fu-”

At that moment, Roman returned. 

“Now, Joe, I know you’re not about to use language like that in front of a princess,” he teased. 

“She’s the one smacking people!” he cried indignantly. 

“What did you do to upset her?” Roman asked. 

“HA!” you laughed in Joe’s face. 

“I didn’t - what the - oh, forget this!” he said. “I won’t sit here and be ganged up on by some stuck up royal brats.”

With that, he stormed out of the compartment. You watched him go contemplatively. 

“What’s with him?” you wondered. 

Roman shrugged. “Joe’s a person who has been through a lot. None of which he talks about. But he is a good person.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, I have yet to see it. How someone as decent as you is his friend is beyond me.”

He looked at you with a nostalgic smile. 

“It may be hard for you to believe, Y/N, but Joe is a very selfless person in many ways,” he said. “He saved my life. I was cornered by two members of the New Order, who were determined to take me out like many of the other nobles who didn’t leave. Only, they weren’t as efficient as most. They beat me nearly to death, and I was about ready to succumb to it. But Joe came around the corner and stopped them.”

“He did?” you questioned. “Then what’s with all this talk about not bothering to do the right thing? What was in it for him to help you?”

He shrugged again. “I don’t know. All I know is that I’m grateful to him. He took me to the palace, where he was living, nursed my wounds, and then we decided to be companions and try to get out together.”

“It must have been your money that made him choose you,” you said. 

“I can’t be,” he said. “He couldn’t see me from the angle he was coming from. Besides, my face was almost beyond recognition.” 

You paused, trying to come up with some way that it was self-serving. 

“Joe wants to be the kind of person who does the right thing all the time,” Roman said. “He just sets himself up to be able to do it safely. He’s more careful. He’s had to be.”

Before you could reply, Joe returned to the compartment. 

“We’ll be in Dram in half an hour,” he said. “Get ready.” 


	5. Chapter 5

Dram was a lovely town. Roman mentioned how it was a shame they had to come in the winter, when the summer had the Mermaid Festival, which was a highlight of the culture in Eboron. The royal family always attended, since the time of King Benjamin. 

As you left the train station to head for the harbor, you stopped to admire the enormous statue in the town square. There, in the center, stood a stone Captain Behati. Tall and proud and armed to the teeth. She appeared every bit as fierce as you read about, and yet, on her face there was a smile. You inadvertently smiled back. 

“Come on, Y/N, we don’t have time to sight see,” Joe insisted, taking your arm. 

You sighed, but didn’t fight him. After what Roman told you about the rescue, you’d resigned to be less combative with Joe. There had to be some good in him. 

The harbor was large, with all kinds of ships docked. Roman went to purchase tickets, so you and Joe waited away from the line. 

“Are you sure we don’t need to go with him?” you asked, watching Roman walk away. “Won’t we need to show our papers?”

Joe shook his head. “No, travel is a lot freer here. Before the Revolution, all you needed was a ticket to travel among the continent. Now, it’s only like that between Eboron and Letos.”

“I had no idea it was so bad…”

Joe scoffed. “Where have you been the last fifteen years?”

You frowned at him but refrained from biting back. Instead, you tried to reason with him.

“Have I done something to you?” you wondered.

“Besides nearly breaking my face?” he returned. 

“You didn’t like me before I hit you,” you reminded him. “And I don’t know why.”

“Gee, I dunno, Y/N,” he said sarcastically. “Maybe it’s because you’re stubborn and argumentative and ignorant.”

“Funny, I could say the same about you,” you snapped. 

“Hey, no one could accuse me of being ignorant.”

“But the other two you’ll accept just fine?”

“I know who I am,” he said with a shrug.

Those words dragged at your heart like claws. You froze, glowering at him. He seemed to realize the implications of his statement, and his mouth fell slightly agape. A flicker of guilt passed over his face.

“Y/N, I didn’t mean -”

“Yes, you did,” you cut across him. 

“No, really, I -”

“Alright, we are all set to embark on the SS Behati this evening,” Roman interrupted, approaching you both. He came to a halt once he picked up on the iciness of the air. “Is everything alright?”

“Fine,” you said shortly. “What do we do until we board?”

“I say let’s get some dinner,” Roman suggested. 

You said nothing and turned on your heel, marching toward the tavern across the street. Roman looked at Joe.

“What did you do?” Roman asked.

“This time, I really did mess up,” Joe answered, and as they walked, he confessed to what he’d said. 

Dinner was spent in silence. Roman hoped to ease the tension, but he knew there was no way he could without appearing to make excuses for Joe, and neither of them wanted you to feel ganged up on. So, you stabbed at your food with each bite, and the men sipped their beers quietly. 

You returned to the harbor when it was time to embark. The sky had darkened almost completely. You looked up at the stars and were briefly struck with awe. With all the bright lights back home, you had never seen the sky so glittering. You supposed you would have to grow used to new sights. 

To your great relief, you, Roman, and Joe each had your own rooms. Yours was in between theirs, which they argued was for your safety. You told them you were going to bed before snapping your door shut, leaving them in the corridor. 

“You should really apologize,” Roman said.

“I tried, but I -”

“Don’t make excuses, Joe,” Roman said. “Just tell her you’re sorry.” A beat passed. “But maybe wait until the morning.”

Joe agreed, disappearing into his own room. 

The SS Behati took off into the inky black abyss of sea and sky. Joe couldn’t sleep. He sat up on his bed and removed the music box from its place in his coat pocket. Not even Roman knew he had this. Sometimes, Joe felt bad that he knew everything about Roman, and yet Roman knew so little about him. But, Joe realized there were some things you just couldn’t share. And his experience in Ice Hollow was one of them. 

He stared at the music box, dreading that he never could open it. He assumed the key was destroyed in the fire. He had never found it among the royals’ belongings at the castle, so Anastasia must have had it with her before she died. But he would never have dared return to the Ice Hollow house to try and find it. And even if he did, there was no guarantee it wasn’t melted. He figured the box itself would be enough proof for the Dowager. 

He put the music box on the nightstand and began crafting his apology to you. It was true, he had been harsh with you, but every time he looked at your face he saw the princess. It made his walls go up. How could he possibly explain that? Maybe if he confided in you, trusted you, you could do the same with him.

Suddenly, he heard an anguished cry come through the wall from your room. Joe leapt to his feet. He hadn’t heard a shout like that since...well, since Ice Hollow. He sprinted out the door, losing his balance in the corridor as the ship rocked, slamming him into the opposite wall. He regained his balance and then burst into your room. 

You were writhing on the bed, sobbing, sheets balled up in your tight fists. Sweat plastered your hair to your forehead. Your skin was flushed red and you were struggling for breath.

Joe approached slowly. He wondered if Roman could hear any of this, but it was unlikely. Roman was a heavy sleeper. So, Joe crept toward your bed. 

“Y/N,” he said gently. 

You didn’t answer, you only thrashed to your left. 

“Y/N,” he called again, louder this time. 

Still, you couldn’t hear him. With a reluctant sigh, he took you by the shoulders and shook you. 

“Y/N!” 

Your eyes popped open, wide and wild, and frightened beyond understanding. They locked onto Joe, and the fear began to subside. 

“You’re here,” you whimpered. You released the sheets and reached out for him, pulling him close. “You’re here…”

Joe sat down beside you and let you crawl up under his arm. You buried your face in his chest. His arms enclosed you and he stroked your hair, easing you back down from the dream. 

Only, it wasn’t a dream you could easily forget. This was the most vivid you’d ever had. You were with your family (though how you knew that you couldn’t be sure) and men with guns invaded the room, ordering you to line up. Your father pleaded with them, but they didn’t listen. They fired, your shoulder was burning, burning so hot, but you couldn’t let go. There was a sharpness in your abdomen, then a fire. You resigned yourself to death. 

Then, the boy you remembered came for you, dragging you out of the room where your family lay still. You asked one thing only of him, to fetch the music box you had hidden in your dollhouse. The boy obeyed, tucking it into his jacket pocket, and then grabbing you under the arms and dragging you to the window. 

He got you out, and helped you limp through the snow, leaving a trail of bright red among the white blanket. Until you collapsed. His face was all you could focus on. Your pain ebbed down to a dull throb, he urged you to hold on as your eyes fell closed. And when you opened them, he was there again, older and harder, but the same boy. He was here…

“It’s alright,” he said softly. “It’s alright. Just a bad dream.”

You nodded and took a deep breath. 

Joe couldn’t get your words out of his head. Were you expecting him? Or was it just a surprise that it was him and not Roman?

When your breathing returned to normal, you pried yourself away. Joe released you, though found himself displeased at the idea.

“Are you alright?” he asked. 

“I think so,” you said. 

Was it really Joe? Or did he look just similar enough to the boy to make you believe it was him? After all, the boy may not even be real. 

“I have dreams like that a lot.”

“Dreams like what?” he wondered.

“Well, they’ve never been this clear before, but I’m with a family - my family, I guess - and then we’re ambushed by men in masks,” you said. “With guns. I’ve been dreaming the same thing since the orphanage.”

Joe blinked. That was quite the coincidence. He didn’t want to press too much, though. You were already overwhelmed.

“I’m sorry you’re going through that,” he said. “I’ve had nightmares like that before, and they’re no joke.”

“At least you know where they’re from,” you returned, bitterness flavoring your tone.

“Not always,” he said. “Y/N, I really am sorry about what I said. Even if it was careless, I should be more sensitive.”

“Apology accepted,” you said graciously. “And you’re not insensitive. I haven’t been very kind either.”

“Well, perhaps we can start fresh,” he said. 

“I’d like that,” you agreed. 

He held out his hand, and you shook it. His palm felt warm and comfortable against your clammy one. 

“Well,” he said as he released your hand. “I’ll let you get back to slee-”

“No, don’t go!” you blurted out, immediately clapping your hand over your mouth out of shame. You let go. “I just...I don’t want to be alone just yet.”

“Well, that’s all you gotta say,” he said with a smile.

You offered one back. A question bubbled to the surface of your heart, but you were a bit afraid to ask it. Joe was so secretive. 

“Can I ask you something?” you wondered.

“Sure,” he replied. 

“You worked for the royal family, right?” 

He nodded. “Yeah. My mother was a cook so I was a kitchen boy.”

“Did you ever meet the royals?” you pressed. 

“I came into contact with them a couple times, yeah,” he said. “Why?”

“What was it like?”

He hesitated. You feared for a fleeting moment that you’d pushed too far. That he would retreat behind his walls and you would be back to where you started. 

“It was...kinda magical,” he said. 

“Magical?”

“Yeah,” he continued. “The Lee family wasn’t like most royals. They really strived to serve their people. They ensured everyone was cared for, even if it cost them their own money. They weren’t wasteful because of things like fashion, so the princesses had old dresses remade in new styles instead of throwing things away. And they used the local talent - seamstresses and jewelers and blacksmiths. It wasn’t about having what the world thought was the best. They knew they had the best among their own people, and they gave back as much as they could.”

“But surely they had things like parades and balls,” you said.

“Sure they did,” he said. “But it was never about them. They had balls for traditional things like the princesses coming out or a holiday, but parades and festivals were in honor of local people. A soldier who did some heroic act. A doctor who created a new medicine. Things like that.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” you said.

“They weren’t bad,” he added. “They were very good people. With good hearts. It was Drago and the New Order who messed it all up. It was their way that created poverty and dissension and panic. And they used it to manipulate the people to turn on the royals.”

“I don’t want to talk about their end,” you said. “Tell me a good memory.”

“Haven’t I already?” he returned. 

“You haven’t told me anything personal,” you pointed out. “Tell me something from your own life.”

Joe racked his brain. He had many memories of the royal family, but he didn’t like to recall them because it more often than not ended with the memory of their demise. But there was one in particular that stood out.

“It was June,” he began. “I was ten. There was a parade for...something. I can’t remember now. But the royal family had the honoree on their float with them. And the youngest princess stood beside him. She was waving all proud and proper. A crowd of thousands cheered back at her. I pushed my way to the front so I could see better and when I did, I was just...in awe. It was impertinent, but I called out her name. She looked down at me and she smiled so wide…”

As Joe spoke, you could practically feel the warm summer sun on your skin. You could hear the crowd shouting and cheering. You could see the swarm of people lining the streets, the castle in the distance. It was bright and colorful. The love for your people extended from your heart to their outreached hands. And the boy - Joe - looking like the boy from the dream, called out “Anastasia!” and you looked at him. 

“I feel like I was there,” you admitted. “The way you describe it.”

“There’s a chance you were,” Joe replied, and for the first time, he was believing it. Between your features and your dreams, he had the smallest glimmer of hope. “Tell me what you remember.”

You pondered a moment, searching deep within yourself for the memory. 

“It was hot,” you started, and a bead of sweat from your nightmare that might as well have been the sun beating down slid below your collar. “The sky was bright blue. I was happy….” you trailed off a moment. “Then, a boy caught my eye. He was thin and a little dirty, but with auburn hair that looked like fire in the sunlight. I couldn’t help but smile at him. And then….he bowed.”

Joe’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“Was that wrong?” you asked, frightened. 

“No!” he assured you. “But - how did you know?”

“I...I remember!”

Joe’s heart rate had sped up so much he thought his chest might burst. 

“The boy,” he said. “Did you ever see him again?”

“I think he saved my life,” you said, unsure where this was coming from. “I think he pulled me out of a burning house. I remember from my dreams and that he - I mean you -”

You stopped talking. The truth was crashing down around you, making your whole body feel tight, like you were pressed between two stones. It seemed so impossible. It couldn’t really be that you were a princess, could it? You, a lonely orphan girl with no memory? Well, clearly you had some memories, but were they just your imagination or what?

“Wait right here,” Joe said, standing up. 

“Where are you going?” you demanded. 

“I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared from your room and you listened to his footsteps fade into his own. Within seconds, he was returning to you. In his hand was a music box, but you didn’t know how you knew that. 

“Does this mean anything to you?” he asked, holding it out.

You squinted at it. The gold detail and green, ornate top was familiar. 

“It was a secret,” you said. “Between me and my grandmother. It plays a lullaby.”

“How do you know that?” he questioned. 

“I remember,” you repeated, confident this time. 

“One more question,” he said.

“Yes?”

“Where were you before the orphanage?” 

“A hospital,” you told him. “I was treated for a gunshot and stab wound before one of the nurses took me to the orphanage. That, I’ve always remembered.”

Joe released a slow breath. The hospital staff sent him away because he wasn’t important enough to inform about the girl’s status. He had even told them he wasn’t a relative, that he hardly knew her. Of course they didn’t. How stupid he’d been!

“It really is you,” he said.

“And you, Joe,” you said. “You’ve saved me. More than once you have come between me and certain death.”

“That’s not that big a deal,” he said. 

“Yes it is!” you argued. “I have been so wrong about you. Between me and Roman and...you really do have a good heart.” 

You cupped his cheek in your hand. 

That sort of compliment was difficult for Joe to hear. He didn’t think he was a bad person necessarily, but he wasn’t a white knight either. But he did know when things were wrong, and he believed in life. For everyone.

“Thank you,” he said. 

He swallowed. When had you moved so close? Your eyes were awfully pretty from here. Was that something he thought before? How could he when he hardly looked at them?

“I should be thanking you,” you said. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead. And now, with nothing in it for you, you’re returning me to my family.”

He pulled away from you.

“Your highness,” he said, and then he bent at the waist and bowed to you. 

The next day, you were feeling slightly cross with Joe again. After his bow, he’d left your room and shut the door. You were embarrassed because you’d gotten so vulnerable, only for him to pull away again. You decided you’d have to move past it. Of course it was uncomfortable. You two were still getting to know each other. 

Another day later, when things were feeling slightly more normal - or as normal as they could with your newfound realization - you landed in Leto. You were so close to Ramimont now. And you were certain it was right. It all pointed to you, didn’t it? Your memories, brief as they were, belonged to the princess. The timing was right. You had the music box. How could anyone deny the case was strong? But would it hold up before the Dowager Countess?

The night Joe left your room, he’d gone straight to Roman’s. He confessed everything to his companion, even being there the night of the murders. Roman was bewildered, but understanding. He had faith all along that it was you. Now, he knew they had proof. 

You all boarded a train from the coastal port in Leto, heading for the capital city of Ramimont. Roman put your bags in the overhead compartment before taking his customary seat beside Joe. 

“Joe told me the revelations you both had while we were on the ship,” he said. “I believe this journey will lead us all to what we wish. When we get to Ramimont, we will first have to meet with the Dowager Countess’s lady in waiting. Her name is Lily, and she is also a cousin. You will have to answer her questions before meeting the Dowager.”

You nodded. “I’m ready.”


End file.
